


Temparature

by Cheeziswin



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Body Worship, M/M, Massage, Rimming, i guess in a way - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 14:45:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13250439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheeziswin/pseuds/Cheeziswin
Summary: Stan is like a guitar string, wound tighter and tighter, as tight as it can go, so when Ford plays him, he only gets the highest of notes.





	Temparature

**Author's Note:**

> the thing i wrote 4 secretguiltypleasurelove 4 the stancest secret santa :^))) idk enjoy

Stan peeks his face around the side of the tree only to get a face full of cold snow. He flinches back behind the tree and immediately begins wiping it off and shaking it out of his hair. He hears distant whooping from the other side of the small clearing, and a mirthful laugh from the redhead right beside him.

“Told you not to.” Wendy remarks smugly as she crouches down to the ground, gathering snow in her gloved hands. Stan glares at her back. She stands, a well made snowball in her hands, and in a moment of pure playful spite, Stan shoves her out from the cover of their giant tree. Immediately, three snowballs pelt her side before she scrambles back behind it, shock all over her face. Stan lets out a full belly laugh that has him bent at the stomach and Wendy scoffs.

“Alright, I deserved that, but you’re still an asshole for it, old man.” She says, wiping the snow off her jacket. Stan just smiles at her, but doesn’t have time to respond before he hears yelling from behind him. He looks around the tree to see Mabel, Dipper, and Soos all charging at them - with Mabel sat proudly on Soos’ shoulders with two giant snowballs barely held in her hands. Stan nudges Wendy and they brace themselves before turning and charging too, Wendy nailing Dipper in the shoulder. He falls dramatically, letting out a ridiculous death gurgle as the other two keep charging. Mabel throws both snowballs at once, both hitting Stan in the stomach, and he falls to his knees in defeat.

Wendy keeps on, both her and Soos letting out some impressive war crys, but suddenly Soos gets a face full of snow from the west. He skids to a stop, looking towards the source of the shot and he only sees his wife for a split second before he’s blinded by the white snow. He sputters, and Mabel jumps from his shoulders, before turning to Wendy and tackling her into the snow. With Melody the last one standing, she jumps and yells in victory. Everyone slowly gets up and wipes the snow off of themselves, all gathering together. Soos wraps an arm around Melody, laughing jovially as Wendy gives Dipper a noogie and Mabel fixes her sweater. Stan is glancing around them at the tall trees, scanning the snowy landscape.

Just as he begins to say, “Where’s Ford?”, a giant ball of snow is slammed into his head. He gasps at the sudden shock of cold, some of the snow slipping under his jacket and into his neck, and he hears everyone laugh and snort. He turns to see Ford, grinning from ear to ear, breath curling around his face. There’s giant mounds of snow on Stan, both on his shoulders and his head, and he quickly brushes as much off as he can before he grins back. Then, in a split second, he has Ford in his arms and he’s lifting him up, lugging him towards the nearest fresh mound of snow, as Ford laughs and struggles weakly all the while. With a dramatic flourish, Stan falls into the snow, sending fresh flakes flying around them and trapping Ford under his body. They’re both completely covered, but it’s completely worth it to see Ford’s laughing face. They climb out of the mound to see Mabel waving to them, and Soos shouts something about unpacking.

Stan groans at the memory. They’d all flown out here, to spend some time in the redwood forest, get together for an early Chanukah/Christmas celebration. They’d planned on unpacking and settling in before getting into the snow, but Mabel threw a snowball at Wendy, and then Soos at Stan, and then suddenly everyone was pairing off and making truces for a battle. Now they’d have to lug all their luggage to the cabin wet and cold… they didn’t exactly think this through.

The walk up the needlessly long driveway is a tough one, everyone piled with all the luggage they could carry, because taking two trips is for suckers. They come up on a giant snow covered wood cabin, a swing bench on the porch and stained glass double doors. The younger twins waste no time in rushing up the creaky steps, disturbing the pristine snow that had covered the steps. The rest of the family is close behind them, though less enthusiastically

Mabel and Dipper exclaimed in both glee and awe when they walked into the large wood cabin - it was stereotypical, looked just the same as almost all wood cabins do, with the ubiquitous antler decorations and wood everything and stone fireplace - but it was the sheer size of the thing that was amazing. The ceiling towered over their heads, a giant chandelier hanging from it, and fairy lights wrapped around the numerous rafters. Everyone was immediately flitting about, checking out the couches and the kitchen and just about everything they could. Wendy yelled something about calling dibs on rooms and the two little twins bolted after her to claim their own. The others weren’t too worried - the place was big enough each of them could probably have their own room, and they didn’t exactly mind if they would have to bunk together. All that could be expected from the Northwest family, who happened to own this cabin. Pacifica Northwest had been the one to loan it to them.According to Mabel and Dipper, she was “way cooler than she seemed”, and also owed them a bit of a favor - so a week long getaway in one of their many fancy cabins was the perfect payment.

“I don’t care which rooms you take, as long as you leave me a good bathroom!” Stanley yelled after them, hearing a muffled “Okay!” in return. And Stan wasn’t kidding, the first thing he was doing after he got all his luggage into a room, he was stripping off his soaked and freezing clothes and scalding his skin in a shower. Spending a year and a half in the arctic helped him with dealing with the cold, but not being able to stop shaking wasn’t the most pleasant of feelings. And who doesn't love a nice hot shower and a nap in a warm bed after playing all morning in the snow?

Soos and Melody were chatting in the kitchen, Soos scoping out the fridge as Melody went over a pamphlet of the touristy things to do in the area. Stan wiped off his boots as he heard another set of heavy boots come up behind him. Ford is the last one into the door, with his overly large duffel bag in tow. He scans the area with a bit of an indifferent expression, but smiles when his eyes land on Stan. He pats Stan’s shoulder with his free hand, rubbing it covertly “Wanna go find some rooms?”

Stan nods, grabbing his suitcase and following his brother down the hall. They pass Wendy’s room down one hallway, and she was already sprawled starfish on her bed, checking her phone with one hand. She grunts in acknowledgement as they pass by. Down another hallway, Dipper was unpacking his limited set of clothes out onto his own bed, across from Mabel who had dumped her whole suitcase out onto the floor and was tossing wads of clothing in apparently organized other piles. She looks up and notices her Grunkles passing through the hall, and stands quickly to get their attention.

“There’s only two more rooms left, so if you want me and Dipper to share, we can!” Mabel states, joining them in the hallway. “We really don’t mind.” Dipper pipes in from where he stood in his doorway. The brothers glanced at each other before shrugging.

“We’re okay with sharing a room.” Ford says, rolling one shoulder. Stan nods along with him.

“We’ve been cooped up together on a boat for a year, we can handle sharing a room.”

Dipper and Mabel exchange a glance before shrugging themselves and returning to unpacking their things. Ford and Stan continue down the hallway, finding a second sitting room - and really, what the hell, isn’t one giant sitting room enough? - before finding the last room down the way. They step in, finding what must be the master bedroom, with high vaulted ceilings and wall to wall windows on one side overlooking the snow covered landscape outside. It almost looked like a painting, so gorgeous there was no way it wasn’t fake, but the snow gently falling proved it was not. The bed was unreasonably huge, donned in a tacky faux mink fur bedding. A stone fireplace was on the wall across from the bed, just to the left of an open archway that must lead to a-

“Bathroom! God, finally.” It was so enthusiastic and loud it made Ford jump, and Stan stepped past him, quickly shedding his jacket and hat as he bee lined for the shower. “I swear, my nipples were gonna fall off if I went any longer without hot water.”

Ford rolled his eyes as he heard Stan’s echoey voice in the full tile bath. He dragged Stan’s suitcase towards the dresser and began unpacking both of their things - making sure to find the toiletries first - as he listened to Stan’s gushing over the pure fanciness of their residence.

Stanford glanced towards the archway that lead to the bathroom, and convinced Stan wasn’t going to be coming out anytime soon, he began unpacking the things Stan had no idea he even owned. He pulled the small, soap-dispenser like object from his bag and set it on the nightstand before plugging it in. He slipped the bottle of oil into the warming slot, rubbing his cold hands together in anticipation. He took a moment to go and tell the others that they would be going down for a nap, that they were welcome to go and check out the lodge down the mountain, take the car if they desired, they would probably be sleeping for quite a while. Once sure they wouldn’t be disturbed, he returned to the room, making sure to lock the door just in case.

He closes the red sheer curtains to the outside, pleasantly surprised at the reddish glow it casts upon the room. He wasn’t anticipating that, but hey, he’s not gonna complain.

From the bathroom, he hears the unmistakable sound of a shower running, and can already see the condensation on the mirror visible from the bedroom. Quickly stripping himself of all layers, the room warm but still cold enough for goosebumps to form. He leaves his wet clothes behind in the middle of the room, grabs the soaps from the shelf he set them on, and then steps into the luxurious bathroom and onto the cool, tan tile. Before him is the open shower, and the love of his life. Stan stands under the no doubt too hot spray, coming from a square showerhead embedded into the ceiling. His eyes are closed, face up towards the water, basking in the warmth. Ford allows himself a while to really soak him in, the lax muscles in his back, the long grey hair sticking to his neck. He watches the water cascade down his brothers body, flattening all his beautiful hair and just… accentuating every little thing he loves about Stanley’s physique. And hey, he’s not always poetic - he spends a good amount of his gawking staring at Stanley’s ass. He can’t help it, damn it, it’s magnetic. Magnetic enough to set him into motion, stepping across the tile to gently cup one of those lovely cheeks. Stan opens his eyes, turning his head to find his brother staring at him hungrily. He grins - that easy, relaxed, sultry grin that never fails to turn Ford’s brain to mush.

“Gonna join me, poindexter?” Stan purrs knowingly, and all he gets is a hum in return and Ford’s arms wrap around his stomach. Ford’s hands slide smoothly across his wide stomach and Ford presses his chest to his brothers strong back, flaccid member flush to Stan’s backside. Ford places a long kiss to Stanley’s shoulder, letting the hot water wash over him too. It’s a tad too hot at first, almost stinging his chilled skin, but he can’t care too much when he’s skin to skin with his twin. They take just a moment to stand under the comforting water, pressed together in a loving embrace. But it’s not long before Stan begins rolling his hips back teasingly, his hand wrapping behind him to grab Ford’s hip to encourage him to move too - but, much to his confusion and dismay, Ford pulls away and reaches for the soap.

Oh. So it will be one of those nights.

Stan braces himself for what he knows is gonna be a long, long, amazing time.

Ford is meticulous and careful as he lathers the soap in his hands and runs it over Stan’s body, fingers gentle and both not enough and so much at the same time. His hands are all over him, over his back, his chest, his stomach, lower… Ford is deliberate when he cleans Stan’s crack, brushing his fingers over Stan’s hole as a promise for later. Stan loses his mind when Ford wraps his hand around Stan’s already half hard cock, gives him one stroke, and then leaves him like that. Stan doesn’t care how whiny he sounds when he, well, whines. Ford chuckles cockily, kisses the back of his neck, and whispers “Patience.” against his skin. He presses his hips forcefully against Stan’s own, making sure Stan can feel every inch of his dick against him - already even harder than Stan’s own, which is a minor victory if you ask Stan. “I’ll fuck you soon.”

A shiver travels through Stan’s whole body and it’s thrilling as all hell.

Ford turns and shuts the water off, walks to grab a towel from the cupboard, and Stan already feels too cold. Then Ford tosses a towel to him, wordlessly telling him to dry off. Stan does, as quickly as he can, knowing Ford has something planned after all that petting.

Once dry, Ford tosses his towel to the floor and turns to Stan. He makes an over exaggerated beckoning gesture with his finger, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. Stanley snorts and follows him into the bedroom, watches him pat the end of the bed “Lay down, on your stomach.”

Stan obliges, slowly, crawls up to the pillows and flops down onto the bed. The soft fur is somewhat ticklish on his stomach. He crosses his arms under his head and looks over his shoulder, sees Ford’s eyes scanning over his body, sees the way Ford is practically devouring him by sight without even laying a hand on him. Then Ford is standing, going to the bedside table. He grabs something that Stan can’t make out, but it’s definitely a bottle. Then, Stan feels the bed dip when Ford swings a leg over him and straddles his thighs. Stan’s whole body rings with anticipation, knowing they’re both bare and Ford is right behind him, hard and ready, that Ford can see all of him laid out for him.

Stan can hear the cap of the bottle pop open, and then hears Ford rub whatever it is on his hands, then- a hot dollop of oil lands on the middle of his back. His back twitches, hair standing on end. The watery liquid runs down into the curve of his back, and he squirms from the heat - it wasn’t unbearably hot, no, Ford would never - but his skin, slightly chilled already from after the shower, intensifies it. He feels hypersensitive, as if every single hair on his skin is loaded with nerves, the oil leaving a burning trail down his cool skin. His fingers tighten their grip on the pillow.

Ford’s hands are just as careful as before as he rests his entire, large hand in the small of his back, aligned with his spine. He puts a slight pressure and slides his full hand all the way along Stan’s spine, all the way to his neck, and just with that Stan is already practically limp, like Stan’s body was a map that Ford has smoothed out across his desk and he’s about to chart his next course.

Ever so slowly, and god damn it isn’t it always agonizingly slow with Ford but god damn it again he loves it, he spreads the slippery oil across the expanse of Stan’s back, large hands running over strong shoulders and soft sides and surprisingly bony hips. It’s methodical, the way Ford works him. You’d think he was charting the stars with how reverently he touches and maps his way across Stan’s body. He starts at the shoulders, rolling the heel of his palms into his shoulder blades, then rubbing near his neck. Then his hands travel slowly down the sides of his back, pressing into the skin.

It continues like this, Ford massaging up and down the length of his back, working his muscles and Stan feels like he’s practically one with the bed at this point, his body has sank so far into it, the dark brown fur so soft on his stomach, reduced to nothing but pleasured mumbles. But the longer it goes on, the more antsy Stan gets - he knows, he knows, he needs to be patient, the pay off for waiting is always mind blowing, but Stan has never been the most patient of individuals.

So when Ford hands finally roam lower, and lower, until they’re cupping and squeezing his ass, Stan is nothing short of relieved. Ford digs his fingers into the soft flesh there, leaving little light marks that fade back to normal after just a moment, but Ford has long enough to see the six fingered hand print they leave there. He growls low in his throat and then his body is bowed over Stan, framing him, Fords hands on either side of Stan’s armpits to support him. Ford is pressing open mouthed kisses to the back of his neck, sucking hard, nipping when he pulls off, and Stan moans. The wet kisses are placed everywhere on Stan’s neck that Ford can reach, leaving red marks dotted across Stan's shoulders. Stan can feel Ford’s dick wedged perfectly between his cheeks but Ford must have decided to be a teasing asshole when he woke up this morning, because he’s not moving and his mouth has started to travel down his spine. Stanley whines into his arm, body already so hot, dick already so hard against the bed, leaking and leaving a wet spot under him but he knows Ford’s not finished with him, Ford is going to love every inch of his body and pour affection onto him until Stan can do nothing but be loved.

He feels that love in the way Ford kisses almost every vertebrae in his spine on his way down, unhurried and perfectly content to do this all day if Stan would allow it, letting his lips caress Stan’s back. Down, down, down he goes, marking his path until his hands are on Stan’s ass, taking each cheek in hand, spreading them apart so he can dive in.

Stan cries out, pressing his face into the pillow, when Ford sucks a hickey into the skin right above his hole. Stan pushes back his hips, greedily taking everything he gets and Ford gives back in turn, laving over his hole with his hot tongue, pulling his hands back to give a light smack to his ass as he closes his eyes and groans against Stan, dipping his tongue down and tasting him, and Stan's hands ball into fists and he's groaning low and gasping out Ford's name. Stan is like a guitar string, wound tighter and tighter, as tight as it can go, so when Ford plays him, he only gets the highest of notes. And ain't that the truth, Stan's gasps getting embarrassingly higher and higher as Ford pulls back only to slip two fingers into him, wasting zero time in finding his prostate and pressing right into it. Stan moans, loud, muffled into the pillow as Ford abuses his g-spot, fingering him slow but roughly. Ford continues his kissing, sucking and licking his back just above his ass, slowly working him open and getting him ready for him. Ford works up to three fingers, then four, and Stan is under him losing his mind, moaning and groaning. After a particularly enthusiastic moan, Ford chuckles, and Stan snaps at him to shut up. Ford only pecks the middle of Stan's back again.

"Come on, Ford..." Stanley breathes, lifting his hips and rolling them to meet Ford's thrusts, looking over his shoulder coyly. Ford's face is red, hungry, gazing at him with so much love that Stan feels choked up for a moment. Ford leans down, catching Stan's lip with his, their tongues twining together and bodies pressed against one another. Stan can feel Ford's dick, leaking against his ass, rubbing between the cheeks and fuck finally they're getting somewhere. Stan smiles against Ford's lips and feels Ford smile back at him, then the head of his brothers dick is rubbing against his entrance and it takes all of Stan's strength not to flip them over and ride him to oblivion.

Ford takes his damn time yet again, leaning back to grab his dick and rub it at Stan's entrance, teasing him, taunting him. Stanley growls, pounding the side of his fist into the bed, snapping "Would you just get-"

Then the words die on his lips because Ford snapped his hips forward and sheathed himself fully into his brother as soon as he said it and oh christ.

Stanford is ramming him - pulling his hips back as far as they go and ramming them back in at a steady pace. Stan can do nothing but moan every time his hips slam into him, over and over again, and Ford is groaning over him, telling him how good he feels and how patient he is and he's whispering all this straight into his ear as he grips his hips and fucks him into oblivion. Stan is a jumbling mess of words and sounds and Ford's not doing much better than him, hips speeding up, the sound of his bare hips and balls connecting with Stan's ass loud even over their own noises. Stan is gripping the edge of the matress for dear life, moaning and cursing, Ford using his full weight to push Stan into the mattress. He fucks him like he never will again, panting and moaning desperately as his hips snap rapidly into his brother. Stan feels like he can't breathe, can't even think, all he knows and feels is Ford's weight on him, Ford pounding into him, Ford's quick breaths against his neck, Ford Ford Ford

"Christ, oh fuck-" Stan cries, lifting his head from the pillow to breathe "God, Ford, I'm gonna cum."

Ford moans into his neck, changing the angles of his hips and continuing to fuck into him desperately "Come on, then, Stan. Cum for me."

As if it was just waiting for permission, he immediately cums after that, whole body tensing and he's gasping for air, whole body filled with electricity and his legs shaking. Ford fucks him through it, still holding him down, trying to follow Stan to that edge and off it, babbling into the crook of Stan's neck "I'm gonna cum in you, gonna fucking give you all my cum."

"Please, Ford," Stan gasps, lifting an arm to grip Ford's hair "Give me it."

Not seconds later, Ford stills, letting out a startled yell, grip on his hips tightening painfully. Stan can feel his cum fill his ass, can feel Ford let out a shaky gasp as he rides through his orgasm. Then they're both collapsing into the bed, panting in unison, hearts pumping. Eventually, Ford pulls out of him, rolling to the side, pulling Stanley to his chest and wrapping his arms around him. Stan hums, snuggling into him easily, already feeling his eyelids droop. Ford presses a kiss to the top of his head, whispering "I love you" into his hair. Stanley smiles, squeezing Ford in his arms. He whispers it back.


End file.
